We are not boring, just pre-occupied.

 So.... I am 72 and very happy to be here.  But I am sort of like an old car.  Parts are wearing out.  Things hurt, things I never even thought about hurting.  My hands hurt.  Not from an injury, but just because.  It is a lack of word choice to say "they just hurt."

Things like that make me realize how much I love my hands.  I use them endlessly, and having a certain middle finger afflicted is not a good thing.  I want it to STOP.  Creams, salves, pills, and Grandmother Mary's remedies don't seem to make them better.  Oh well.  At some point, I simply end the complaints and focus on some other body part that needs attention.  There are many.  

The newest one is my heart.  I'm very attached to my heart.  It seems to be working very hard.  Too hard.  One of the valves has decided to become problematic. 

    

Severe aortic valve stenosis with a peak and mean gradients of            66/39 mmHg respectively.  

Now I don't really know what that means in "Doctor" but I do know what it means in "Sally":  a new one needs to be installed. 

As many medical procedures these days, the path to the end is convoluted:

Echo Cardiogram :January 2026

Trip to the Cardiologist: February 2026

One month of wearing a monitor that freaks out TSA

Pulmonary Function Test: February 2026

Ultrasound to examine  the Carotid arteries : March 20, 2026

Cathlab procedure to determine if there are any blockages in the heart's arteries. 

ECG: April 7, 2026

New Valve to be placed via Femoral Arteries on May 15, 2026.

What a ride.  They enclose a new valve in a covering, put it up your femoral artery and place it inside the hinky aortic valve, expand it, secure it, and send you home in 24 hours.  We shall see.  

It will be from a cow.  I am assuming the cow was a sacred cow.  But I guess they last about 10-15 years and are easy to replace.  

Cow Valve Replacement Surgery: Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement (TAVR)

During a TAVR procedure, the surgeon inserts a pencil-thin tube called a sheath into a femoral artery in the leg. Through that sheath, the surgeon uses image guidance to send a balloon catheter through the artery to the aortic valve. The balloon is inflated to open the damaged heart valve and then deflated and removed.

Next, the surgeon places the transcatheter heart valve over a deflated balloon on a very thin tube and threads it to the aortic valve. Once positioned in the aortic valve, the balloon is inflated, expanding the new valve within the diseased one.

Your surgeon removes your damaged heart valve and implants the bioprosthetic cow valve in its place. The implanted valve immediately starts opening and closing, allowing blood to leave the heart and preventing it from leaking back in. The balloon is then deflated and the delivery system is removed. The new heart valve begins to work immediately.

The patient’s heart beats throughout the entire procedure.

Ides of May....... I hope to report afterwards. 

The Past

The Past...

What is the past?

Can people change?

Do things really change?

I have been immersed in the world of Bridgeton and the Gilded Age, and I am rewatching Downton Abby again.  I seem so mesmerized by all the dresses, china, silverware, and the dancing. I look at our world, and so much of this sort of thing is gone. We don't even call each other anymore.  While some of it seems a bit over the top, I think we should have some of it back.  I think it would make life a bit better and more civilized. 

Communication

What if we actually wrote letters?  There was a time when it was really the only method of communication.  Most letters started with a mention of the weather, then health.  Some included recent events and even a bit of juicy gossip.  While I would appreciate a well-carved writing desk with a dip pen.  A chance to gaze out and appreciate the well-manicured garden. Sealing wax is probably not needed, but it would really jazz things up. 

A phone call might even be nice. One where one knows a number, picks up a receiver, and dials some numbers.  On the other end, the person answers, only to be surprised to find out who is calling. No auto-dial, no photo appearing on the screen, no number blocking, or auto messaging an excuse as to why the connection must wait. It was just a simple phone call to a friend. 

Maybe we could just drop by for a cup of coffee or a short visit.  Maybe a visit that is spontaneous and not planned in a week.  No expectations of a grand charcuterie board or host of fine pastries.  Just good old coffee and maybe a stale donut.  

As things currently work, our new technology seems to be pushing us further and further apart.  We screen our calls. We set up our communication devices to notify the caller when the phones are on silent. People walk down the street looking at their phones wearing large noise cancelling head phones.  We are drifting further and further away from each other. Ease of communication has become isolation. 

Somehow, we no longer talk to each other, ask personal questions, or even know the questions to ask. I am a question asker.  I ask all sorts of things of everyone.  Where do you live? How did you come to live in the Spokane area?  Where did you go to school? Do you have a family?  What's your favorite Asian restaurant? Have you ever done Bloomsday?  Do you remember the winter of 1969? Did you see John Denver at Expo 74?  They go on and on and on.... What I have found is that my daughter is horrified by the litany.  I, in turn, can not believe what she does not ask her friends and co-workers. How do we find out about people if we don't ask them questions, or write letters, or call them?

 Heavy Sigh

Sometimes I just need to purge the angst that floats in my soul. Sometimes one gets so busy they don't have a moment to think.  I have been trying to pay more attention.  Maybe rushing through life and pushing the bad stuff away works better. 

I think this down-and-out feeling on Christmas Eve is just a culmination of a year of imbalance.  I know things have been very disjointed and disorienting for several months.  Things I have valued and learned over the years are evidently not valued by many people.  The loud people.  Those extoling the virtues of hate, intolerance, and basic lack of sympathy.  Judges have been bought. Education is mocked. History is ignored. Science is discredited. The poor are not tolerated.  Immigrants are rounded up and treated like cattle. 

As a history major and a person with an amazing memory for many things (do  you know where my phone is right now?) I am so distressed.  

As I watch things unfold in our world, the distress does not seem to be fading.  It only amps up.  There are so many important things happening in the greater world and in my world. I just wish I had enough fortitude to face it all.  To read the papers, digest the events, and think about the consequences, but the events come so fast and furious that I am unable to even put my head up a bit to look around.  As a result, my world is shrinking.  I read less, go out less, engage with fewer people, sleep more, and watch less.  I find that even while watching something as simple as The Gilded Age, I have to stop when I can see there is going to be some conflict or issue that will make a favorite character uncomfortable.  I have become the child who rewatches the same movie or cartoon over and over because surprise is too much to handle.   Lots and lots of deep breaths are required.  Everything seems to trip me up.  

This entry was started in December and is being finished on April 13, 2026.  See, it is taking way too long to be able to lay out what is going on in my head.  Back to the Gilded Age.  Grandma Foster would have loved all the clothes.  Not that she was around then,

but she was certainly a lover of great fashion. 

I Don't Think We Should Leave Things Unsaid.

 We all seem to have a bunch to say. As John and I are traveling down the road, things just pop into my head.  I contemplate the thought for a moment and then let it travel to some often unreachable part of my brain.

When it resurfaces without prompting, I have decided I need to put it down somewhere.  This blog is a good place to store things. Many, many thoughts have been set down and have been useful at some point. 

So... Saguaro Cacti.  They are amazing and only grow in a specific and limited part of Arizona.  They might grow in other places, but then I would have to do research.  Not today.  

Anyway, back to Saguaro. This year, I checked when they started to appear on our drive from Flagstaff to Tucson. Elevation, 3248. They are fond of southern exposure and don't need much water.  

As a person who has reached 72, I really appreciate how they manage their lives.  First, they don't even bother to develop the iconic arms until well into their 50's.  They spend their first half-century just standing and settling into their lives. They are not being bothered by their offspring's demands. They are just growing and jiving with their friends.  When the time comes, the arms do appear along with flowers and fruit.  Being desert plants, they only bloom at night.  Early on, they realize they must reserve water, and the sun can be harsh in their chosen environment. It simply works for them.  The night-blooming plant limits pollinators.  Bees and birds are not night creatures, but bats excel at pollination. 

As they continue their 250+ years of life, they begin to weaken and eventually fall victim to age and gravity.  But the best part of their life is how they become more useful to the world they inhabit as they age.  Gila Woodpeckers make nests in their flesh and raise their young. The nests later become home to small creatures and Elf Owls.  At the very end, their long spines become tools to harvest the younger compatriots' fruit. What a great life cycle.   

 

We could learn from their example.  Take time to grow and live, enjoy a productive life, and as you leave, continue to contribute.  Make friends with small interesting birds and leave useful tools when you leave.